


White Path

by JeanRainier



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Child Abuse, Fantasy, Muteness, Overcoming Trauma, Parent-Child Relationship, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 11:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20600024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanRainier/pseuds/JeanRainier
Summary: Celestin LaClair has recently enrolled in one of the top magical artisan academies in the region. While his enrollment letter says he seeks to learn control of his powers to protect his family, the truth is far more bleak. Torn between recognizing his father's affections as unhealthy, and being bound guiltily to the man's neediness - Celestin made the decision to enroll to finally get out of the house where they were always alone together. Trying to bear the weight of this choice, he struggles to dare his first step out into a life of his own making. Can he handle the stress of a world without his father's overprotective doting? Or will he surrender to the isolated environment that, while safer, was destroying him slowly? What is better - to live free but hated, or isolated but loved?





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for father-son dub/noncon relationship implied. Will be explicit later on. Prefacing warnings will be supplied.  
While intense in some content, the point of the story is a journey of growth and the struggle for freedom outside and away from abuse and trauma.

“Are you sure about this?” My father’s grip is nearly white on the steering wheel. 

“Because you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I can write some letters, make some calls. They can’t  _ force  _ you to attend.”

When I pull my head back from the window and slide my eyes to the rear view mirror, we lock gazes through it. There is a wetness to his grey stare. A pleading he’s just barely too proud to actually give words. We hold each other there momentarily, before I snap attention down to the windshield, and the road beyond it. 

Father takes the hint, looking back to the road with a small sigh.

“I just want you to know, you have options.” He mutters.

I say nothing. For the rest of the drive, we sit in a sullen silence. He won’t even turn the radio on. The remaining half hour wind through back roads into rural Solia serves as a funeral march. Our relationship, heavy in my lap in the backseat, is dead and soon to be buried.

At least, that’s the way father acts.

Somewhere between mourning and wounded. Maybe even a bit resentful.

He doesn’t stress again that I could decline the invitation, but every time we catch eyes in the mirror, I know he wants to.

Beyond the tinted window I return my head to, the Solia countryside is bright and vibrant. Rolling hills shift from lush grass to softly swaying wheat. The green-gold tapestry of the land goes on for miles in every direction. Being able to see out to such a far-flung horizon is disorienting, but captivating. I almost don’t recognize the length of the drive, caught up in the imagery. 

I know when we near the academy by father’s stressed exhale.

Turning forward, I can see its imposing figure far ahead of us still. Its spires glimmer gold in the late morning light. Its walls shine, ivory brickwork decorated by bright teal banners. It feels all at once ancient and advanced, its shape outdated but its color fantastically neon. 

Occasionally the sun catches something- the edges of a silhouette, not entirely visible or invisible. Resting somewhere between, it takes strips of sunlight and lets them roll off the sides, catching rainbow curves strangely in the air. It suggests a dome around the looming castle, though its exact dimensions are too difficult to make out when its edges refract and fade so frequently. The sight does exactly what it is meant to- proving there is protection, while giving not so much away as to be easily undermined. I wish this made father any more relaxed, but even at the foot of such a sight he wears his face stressed and melancholic still.

I pretend not to notice and turn away again, staring back out the window. The countryside seems far less interesting now. I have to reconcile that there will be time to gawk later, without father around to take it as a personal injury.

When the car finally came to a full stop, I stayed inside it.

Beyond its metal frame and tinted windows, a dozen other cars lined the massive cobblestone pathway. People poured in and out of them, adults and teenagers alike. Most were chatting, hugging, some even crying. A few of the older kids already had their uniforms on- a scattered sea of colored overcoats and embroidered vests. A couple both in cyan lingered by a car nearest, cheerfully discussing something while holding hands. Further on a group of pinks and greens were dragging a horde of luggage on with them towards the main gates. I scanned the spread out crowd, finding a few violets in the mix, but not a single person in gold. 

The search was interrupted abruptly as my door clicked open. 

I startled, just slightly, not having noticed it whenever Father slid from his seat and came around the car. He pulled my door open only partway, standing in it entirely and smiling down at me. I could tell he was trying his best to hold himself together. People were watching, now. He couldn’t be his usual crybaby self now, much as he seemed to want to.

“Ready?” He asked softly. I nodded.

He nodded back, hesitant to do what needed to be done. I waited as he lingered there a moment more before forcing himself to step aside, pulling the door fully open and exposing me to the colorful wash of noise and strangers abound. The sheer magnitude was overwhelming. 

As he crossed around to the trunk, I stayed put, watching from the backseat as the full force of it all hit me. Through the lining pathway of cars, past all the students and parents sharing words of parting or reuniting, the academy loomed as blindingly bright as ever. Squinting, I rose one hand to shield the light from my eyes. Even that barely made it manageable. Up close the imposing majesty of the campus was daunting. From a distance its storybook outline seemed charming. So close, it was more surreal than anything. The light caught every bleached brick and gold furnishing. The only reprieve from going blind were the banners, a stunning teal rimmed in thin lines of gold, swaying just so in the cool breeze. 

Father eclipsed the sight before I knew it, my single case of luggage at his side. As his wide frame shielded me from the light, I lowered my hand. He took it smoothly, tugging just barely in beckoning. Despite everything, I almost resisted. Following his touch, I slipped at last from the seat. My boots clicked solid on the cobblestone ground. My balance rocked just slightly, adjusting to standing after the long drive. Squinting still, I found it easiest to look to the ground, reaching gracelessly for the handle to my suitcase for stability. 

“Here.” From his pocket, Father pulled a pair of sunglasses. For all his protests to this, he’d come prepared. I took them, sliding them on one-handed smoothly. We both knew he’d brought them for better reasons than the glaring sun, but he didn’t mention it. He simply waited for me to put them on before wrapping both thick arms around me tight. I tensed, waiting for the contact to run its course.

“I love you.” He muttered into my ear. Every word drug the thick of his bear across my face, itching something terrible. I held dutifully still regardless. 

“You can come home at any point, you know. Any point. No matter what.” His hug tightened slightly, his face grinding against mine in a desperate nuzzle. I reached up with my unoccupied hand, mechanically patting at his side as he clung to me. For a few long moments, we stayed like that, until he decided it could go on no longer.

As he pulled away, I caught glimpses of people staring, some whispering to one another behind their hands. Father either didn’t notice, or more than likely didn’t care. He just straightened and smiled down at me, the wetness back in his eyes stronger than ever.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” He offered. 

I didn’t, but I said nothing. After an awkward pause, I simply shrugged one shoulder. We both knew he was going to do whatever he wanted either way. Better not to fight it. 

At my lack of refusal, he smiled wide and relieved, and nodded. 

“Alright. Let me just-” he paused, turning from me just so in order to check his pockets for the keys. Tapping a button on the dongle, all the locks clicked loudly down. Nodding in satisfaction, he tucked his keys away once more and turned, laying one massive hand on my shoulder. 

“After you, then.” He motioned forward for me to lead.

Ahead of us, most of the clusters of strangers were in some capacity now focused on us. Staring, or pretending not to. Stealing glances and feigning conversations as if they weren’t talking about us. I could tell the lie from their dropped volume, soft if not conspiratorial.

It took me an ashamed moment to gather my nerve before taking the first step forward. Father shadowed my every step, his hand never leaving my shoulder as we made way up the pathway to the main courtyard. The entire way, I pretended not to notice the caught whispers- Father’s name playing on all their lips, the same trite old phrases echoing every few paces.

  
  


_ White hair? _

_ The LaClairs.. _

_ I didn’t know he had a son.. _

  
  


At the courtyard people were more fanned out, larger groups or smaller pockets further apart and farther from earshot. In the wide gaps of space between them all various arrays were drawn out. Every so often one would begin to glow, the air turning tight and churning briefly just before someone appeared in a glittering burst of fairy lights. I navigated around the various circles, careful not to tread over a single line drawn over the stone. 

As we neared the towering double doors of the main campus building, Father’s hand rose from my shoulder. I stopped immediately, turning just as he chirped a surprised, pleased noise.

“Oh! Oh, Celestin, look who it is!” He patted at my back, not looking to see I was already staring at who had caught his eye. From one of the arrays a man and two children had appeared, orbs of pink light floating softly around them still. 

The man was Solomon Grey, a college of my father’s. His square cut jaw and slicked back black hair were instantly recognizable. We’d seen him only a few weeks ago, having shared a lodge during winter vacation up in the mountains. At the time, his kids hadn’t been with him, instead overseas with a mutual friend for their own vacation. 

“Louis!” Solomon proclaimed, smile splitting his stern features warmly. He stepped forward and my father parted with me just a pace in return. The two embraced, and around them I glanced at Solomon’s children. He’d mentioned them, if only in passing. I knew the older, his son, was named Eden. His younger daughter’s name escaped me. 

“Solomon! It’s so good to see you!” Father greeted the man as if they hadn’t just seen each other. I questioned if a few weeks was somehow a wide margin for other people as the two parted and Father clapped his hands at Solomon’s shoulders. The two beamed at one another before seeming to remember anyone else was around, and turned in unison then to their kids.

Father moved back to my side, his hand resting along my back as Solomon sidestepped to let his kids move more into view. Eden wasn’t shy about taking limelight, smiling wide and confident. He was already in uniform, black boots shined and black slacks tucked in immaculately. The neon pink of his overcoat was stunning, which almost made it seem normal that his hair was dyed to match. 

“I didn’t know your son was gifted, Louis.” Solomon commented idly, as Eden offered his hand out to me. I didn’t move right away, glancing towards Father only to find his focus glued to Solomon. Tensing, I forced myself to move, taking Eden’s hand and shaking it rigidly. His grip was casual, and he didn’t seem offended at how swiftly I let go. He simply kept his smile, looking at me with an unreadable mask. Either interested or expertly trained in pretending to be so. Beside him, his sister moved to do the same. 

She looked more like her father, a sheet of inky black hair swept past her shoulders. Though similar to Eden her eyes were a clear blue. She tried her best to smile, seeming awkward in it as she offered her hand. Mechanically, I took hers just as swiftly, and we both seemed relieved to let go of one another and retreat a step further beside our fathers.

“Ah, well, neither did I until just a week ago!” Father laughed easily about it, to which Solomon joined in. I pointedly looked down and away, trying not to squirm uncomfortably. Father made jokes now, for esteemed company. But a week ago when it had happened, he’d been far less than thrilled.

“It’s good fortune, then!” Solomon expertly provided the positive spin. I knew for a fact he wasn’t oblivious enough not to pick up on the vague tension and implication of my Father’s words. If he was doing this for my sake or Father’s, I couldn’t be sure. “He and Eleora can be first years together.”

As Solomon took to striding forward Father followed suit, his hand at my back guiding me in step with him. Solomon’s kids fell behind him, following with all the regal bearing of children used to silently shadowing their parents. 

“Indeed! Perhaps they’ll even find themselves in the same element together.”

Solomon laughed, “One can only hope! Imagine how charming the pictures would be, them lined up in matching colors.”

As the two bubbled on like infatuated mother hens, I picked my luggage up to haul with me up the stairs. It was not so easy a task as I wished. Maybe, if Father hadn’t been so preoccupied, he likely would have rushed to carry it for me in some doting display. As it was I fought to haul the weight of it up enough to clear the steps, struggling more than I wished was obvious.

Eden moved then to my side, hoisting the handle up with ease. He wasn’t a particularly thick-built or strong looking young man, but he was tall, and had little issue heaving the wheels up enough to carry it over the steps without issue. I flushed as he took it from me, cringing into a retreat from holding it. 

I pursed my lips, eyes faltering from Eden’s smile to the ground.

From Eden’s other side, I heard his sister whisper in an offended tone. “Is he not going to say thank you?”

Eden immediately turned on her, hissing. “Elly! Jeez.”

As he looked back to me I averted my gaze again, feigning interest in the marble stairs. 

“I’m sorry.” Eden offered, tone dancing between sincerity and a trained levity. “My sister is a bit of an idiot, sadly.”

“Hey!” Eleora protested, smacking his arm.

Eden sighed heavily, and I glanced back to watch him return to her and lower his voice.

“He’s  _ mute _ , Elly.”

“Oh.” She looked from him, to me, and I felt my shoulders bunch up as I turned away.

“Oh, gods, I am  _ so  _ sorry.” Her eyes darted from me to her father, but luckily for us all he was engrossed in some superficial conversation with my Father about plans for a spring trip out to a famous lake. 

I shook my head, trying to convey it was fine. Anything to get the topic to pass.

Eden seemed keen to that, and quickly took over. “So, you two ready for your first year?”

He sounded genuinely excited for us. I expected malice, teasing. Some trace of what everything suggested upperclassmen (and more importantly, older brothers) were like. But as I dared a look back over, Eden was turning to his sister with a bright-eyed curiosity. Eleora winced, not sharing his enthusiasm, and forced perhaps the most awkward smile I’d ever seen, short of my own.

“I guess.” She mumbled. 

Eden bumped his arm into hers, laughing. “C’mon! It’s gonna be fun. You’ll get your art classified, get your uniform dyed, make some new friends. It’s a blast!”

Eleora sagged her posture and grimaced. “Yeah. It’s that last part that’s worrying me.”

“ _ Whaaat? _ Why?” Eden scoffed. “You’re already off to a great start, you got me, you got Celestin. That’s two for two!”

Eleora glanced my way and we shared a mutual moment of questioning.  _ Us? Friends? _ We both seemed to be waiting for the other to deny it, and when neither of us did she looked away and scrambled. “Yeah, well.. You don’t count, Eden. Being friends with your brother is like, totally lame.”

Eden made a faux-insulted noise, laying one hand over his chest and craning his chin up in indignance. He turned to me then, voice hitched high in mock propriety. “Well, I say! Celestin, I fear we must go it alone. We shall make our own club. A cool club, with no Ellys allowed. It is the only proper recourse.”

My mouth moved, into something I’m sure was almost a smile. It never quite got there though, as Father’s hand at my back moved to my shoulder. He gripped there, guiding me to stop as Solomon kept walking a few paces and circled around to come before his own kids. 

Before us all, the massive double doors creaked, beginning to open on their own with a chorus of ancient, tired sounds. 

“It was wonderful running into you, Solomon!” Father said, waving his free hand.

Eden set my luggage down at my side, flashing me a final smile and playful wink. I wasn’t sure what to do with that, and panicked, looking back down at my feet. 

“You as well, Louis.” Solomon returned, motioning for Eden and Eleora to move along ahead of him and into the building. As they all carried forward into the main hall, Father’s grasp at my shoulder told me to stay put and let them go.

We held back, at first in an almost awkward quiet. Father watched them go, and I watched my feet. I had a feeling I knew what he was about to say. His conversation with Solomon had been harmless, spoken in jubilant tone and friendly as they ever were. Despite Eden and Eleora’s antics, I hadn’t been distracted enough not to keep up with Father’s words in one ear the entire way up the stairs. They’d planned a spring trip, out to the lake. Solomon had invited us, as a family. Father had, as usual, regretfully informed him mother likely wouldn’t be able to attend. Always busy somewhere else, she was. Proof enough was in her not being here, today.

As Eden and Eleora’s voices faded out ahead of us, Father finally shifted his hand on my shoulder and looked down at me. I kept my eyes on the ground, feigning ignorance to his zeroed in attention.

“I’d like you to be there.” He said. The words were soft. Wanting, and quiet. Just between us even as people filtered by, giving us a wide margin on their way to the creaking main doors.

I said nothing. Father’s hand at my shoulder tightened a little.

“It would mean a lot to me,” he added after a moment. “Since your mother can’t come. I know it would be mid-term for you. But think about it, okay?”

I nodded. His grasp loosened. 

“Now, then.” He announced, no longer in a hushed tone. “Let’s get you settled in your room, hm?” As he coaxed me forward, I went, less sure now of where to go. The main hall was a decadent and staggering sight, white marble floors with gold mosaics depicting sigils and seals throughout. The dark brick walls were adorned in teal tapestries just like the outside, each one bearing a different symbol for each of the elemental classes. I lost my bearings among the finery and grandeur, but Father’s hand was always right there, subtly pushing and pulling in whatever direction we were meant to go. I followed his lead, struggling to keep from openly gawking at every turn.


	2. Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celestin crosses the line from standing outside the school to being inside it. The first day buzz has the halls busy and crowded, and the immensity of so many people and stimuli take their toll. His father's agenda becomes more clear, as Celestin's strain crests. He must weather the first of many tests against his resolve to this plan of attendance.

The dorms were divided by element, one for every five. Freshmen, at least for the first night, were assigned temporary rooms within the AEther Dorm. According to the welcoming pamphlet Father recited from memory, luggage left in an assigned temporary room would be transferred automatically to a corresponding dorm room once elements were assigned later in the evening. Mostly, it seemed like a service for people to drop their things off rather than carry them around all day.

“Go on, then.” Father stepped aside after double-checking the room number, assuring it was the one I was assigned in my welcome letter. The door itself had no handle or knob, similar to all the others we’d passed along the way. Rather, where one would normally go, a single circle was drawn to mark an array either hidden or unfinished. As I reached out, further rings began to reveal themselves, patterns drawing themselves out in more and more detail the closer my hand drew. As I touched my palm flat to the array, it completed. Something electric surged from the door to my hand. It was painless, though I imagined it was otherwise exactly how being electrocuted might feel. Something powerful and livening shot straight from my palm to my heart, as if following some invisible chord connecting the two. Tugging on that wire inside of me, it made my entire arm tense and my pulse stagger. 

As I gasped slightly, the door gave way under my hand, rocking forward a permitting inch. I pushed, and it opened the rest of the way, revealing a frankly underwhelming room given the elaborate nature of its lock. Inside, a single bed was tucked into one corner. In the other, a desk with a miniature shelving hutch held a thin layer of dust all over. As I walked in and stared down at the bed’s single sheet that barely covered its surface, Father made a disapproving sound.

“It’s a good thing they forewarned these rooms were just for storage.” He crossed his arms, looking down his nose at the bed and miniature end table set beside it. “I’d be having a strong word with the headmaster over this, if not.”

With that, he turned to me, gaze softening some. I stared back, unsure if I should bother leaving my suitcase if he was already so disapproving. We regarded each other in brief, before he uncrossed his arms, forcing them to fall to his sides less aggressively.

“Just let me know what your official room looks like, alright? No son of mine is staying in a glorified broom closet during his schooling.” That same melancholy from the car ride saturated his features. For a moment, I glanced past him to the door of the room, still hanging open behind us. This wasn’t a place to linger. Now wasn’t a good time to address his feelings, besides.

Heaving my luggage onto the bed, I turned back to him and nodded once. Reaching into my coat pocket, I pulled my phone free and lifted it in show. Father smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Right.” He nodded back, trying to put on a believable show of seeming relieved as I stepped to his side, aiming for the door. “Text me, once you’re settled in.”

We left together, his hand finding my back again in the hall. On the way out of the building I checked through my phone in brief. No news out in the world worth noting. Nothing exceptional with Father’s company that he was missing out on by being here. At least- nothing major enough to be on any public radar. I felt a little relieved, at not distracting him from any important work. It was a feeling largely undermined by the conflicting unease of having him there at all.

How was it I could feel comfort in knowing I wasn’t causing him problems, yet simultaneously not want him here? Was his company a good thing or not? There was no clear answer as we left the gold-adorned building behind, heading across the campus lawn. 

There was only one stop left before Father would have no excuses left to stay. Whether this would make me happy or sad, it failed to matter. It would happen either way regardless. Whatever I felt in the end, I would have to carry on despite it. Knowing this, I tucked my phone away and focused on his everpresent touch. All my life spent with him, it had always been there. In less than an hour, for the first time, he would leave. Something began knotting in my gut. If it was excitement or terror remained to be seen.

* * *

I found myself continually expecting more grandeur than there ultimately was.

On the outside, the academy was a stunning behemoth of ancient architecture and modern magic. The inner decorations were lavish- golds rimming every exchange of colors, proud banners and portraits of class sigils and founding artisans lining the walls. But beyond these decorations, the castle was largely just that. A castle. Beyond the array locks on the dorm doors and the major circles in the courtyard for travel by art, the rest of the arcane tools and furnishings were no different than the ones back home.

Along the walls gold dishes held floating flames in various colors, matching usually with the banners nearest them. Passersby often had their phones out, remarking frequently on the best ley lines in the area and where to go for prime reception. A few even touted small familiars, carrying them in their arms or leaving them to perch on shoulder and back when not in use rushing through the air or underfoot for errands. More and more as we went the halls were becoming lively, the campus almost feeling overburdened with people. I found myself gravitating more and more to Father’s side, until his hand at my back moved practically around me in full, less guiding and almost shielding me into himself with every step.

By the time we returned to the main hall, my hands were starting to shake. I fought it desperately, tucking them away in my coat pockets. Father noticed all the same, his hand directing me with subtle force up the main stairwell then down a series of less and less populated corridors. Turning down the last, leaving the line of sight of the only other two people around, he stopped me and looked around to ensure we were well and truly alone.

“How are you faring?” He asked quiet, voice a tender whisper. Even that still felt like too much. I pressed my back to the wall and shut my eyes. My breathing had become heavy somewhere along the way, without my realizing. Now that we were stopped, the noise hit my ears. My breaths rushed shallow and rapid. The shakiness in my hands had worked its way further out, feeling soon to seep into my very bones. My legs felt weak. A chill rested firmly at the back of my neck. It took all I had to keep my knees from shaking.

Stubbornly, I shook my head at his concern. I was fine. He needed to see that. I couldn’t afford this weakness, now. If I slipped too far, Father would object my attendance. I had to do this. I had to control this. Breathing deep, I held it tight in my lungs. It burnt. I could feel my heart hammering in my ears, my lungs tightening with the want to keep pumping rapidly as they were. After a solid second, I let it go, trying to school every inhale deeper, every pause before exhaling to a moment longer. In the silence of our new position, it worked, though slowly.

Slowly wasn’t good enough. Father’s hands both found my shoulders, and my frame sagged under his weighty touch. He leaned down some, trying to get closer to my level- an impossible task given his height and my utter lack thereof. All the same, he tried, half-whispering to me there, “You don’t have to do this to yourself. We can go home, really.”

I wanted to shake my head, but didn’t. Keeping my eyes shut, my hands balled into fists in my pockets. I wanted this. This academy. This chance. I wanted to be here, to  _ stay  _ here. I wanted this to work. It had to. I  _ needed  _ it to.

After a few moments more of fighting my breaths to something close to steady, I forced eyes to crack open. Glancing up through the sunglasses, Father’s face was painful to see. His lips were pursed into a tight line, but there was a hope in his eyes. A quiet, weak little hope that this lack of refusal was an opening. A chance to convince me to abandon this endeavor. I couldn’t blame him much. In his eyes, I’d only wanted this for a week. A flight of fancy, overestimating myself perhaps. But I knew better. We both knew why this was important- but only I knew why it was important  _ to me _ . He wouldn’t believe me even if I told him. Even if I could.

Taking a deciding breath in deep and holding it again, I finally shook my head. Unable to bear watching Father’s face fall, I looked away, counting again to a full second before exhaling measured and slow. My heart still pounded heavy, but slower. The sounds of the crowd were absent, here. The constant push and pull of bodies no longer plagued me like discordant tides.

It was good, here. Quiet, and calm, and isolated.

Father gripped my shoulders tight.

“Celestin..” He started, a firm undertone to his worry that made the knot in my gut tighten. I didn’t dare look up to meet his gaze. Eyes glued to the floor, my shoulders bunched up under his hands. My jaw tensed. I pushed myself back against the wall a little harder.

Father sighed. He let go. 

Abruptly, he turned away from me and strode to the end of the corridor.

“Come, then. Not much time left.” Without looking back at me, he began walking swiftly down the hall. I scrambled to pull myself up and catch up to his heels. Even as I did so, something terrible and cold opened up deep inside me. A fear I’d thought I’d forgotten. 

Father’s guiding touch did not return as we headed for the Headmaster’s office. The cold hole in me continued to grow, swallowing up my every organ one by one. By the time we returned to the chaos of the main halls, my body felt hollow and brittle. Every brushed shoulder and grazing bag against my arms made me flinch. Every voice calling out to a friend across the hall, every conversation and pack of laughter passing by, made my ears ring. 

Eyes and hands and skin swarmed all over, touching and pressing and passing. Chaos- chaos and noise and overlapping voices collided. Father’s back was the only rock in the storm, parting waters before me as he cleaved through the crowd. He was an important man. People moved out of his way. I had to fight to keep up, to shadow his every step to take advantage of the gap in the waters. Even still, it felt like too much. 

I knew he had to know. 

I knew this was on purpose.

By the time we cleared the fourth staircase up towards the office, all my work to calm felt undone. A wetness swarmed my eyes that I did my best to fight back. It stung. My throat felt thick and suffocating. Every breath was lesser and lesser. My lungs ached for air, where there was none to be had. I wanted out of here. Away from these people. Free of this place. The grandeur had all tarnished, the glory and awe faded and fallen away. These halls were no longer draped in majesty and promise. 

Father had won. I wanted to go home.

He knocked twice on the Headmaster’s door.

A voice from inside called out, “Come in!”


	3. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celestin and his father meet with the academy Headmaster, so stress the importance of Celestin's "unique needs". Again, Celestin is put on the spot to make clear choices concerning his future.

Father looked back at me for the first time as he held the door open.

I tucked my chin, watching the floor as I forced myself to step forward. This -getting what I’d wanted- was a punishment. I could feel it in his intent as he watched me cross the threshold and stop dead in my tracks. 

Just as my foot was about to land, I halted. Beyond the hallway, where there should have been the Headmaster’s office, there was nothing. No floor. Just clear open air looking out to a several story drop to the rolling grass of the campus lawn.

Recoiling swiftly, I staggered back several paces.

From ahead, someone laughed. My head snapped up, a gut-churning mix of emotions flooding to the surface. Fear. Confusion. Anger. None of it was restrained, after all the panic and stress come before it. I felt raw, with nothing dividing me from impulse as my face twisted instinctively into a scowl. 

Who had the nerve to laugh at me? Especially now, of all times?

Past the door, seated behind a desk seemingly hovering in midair, the Headmaster sat and chuckled gently. 

He was a young looking man, with bright golden blonde hair that ran longer than one could understand just by looking. It spanned from him like spider’s web, clinging over the ornate robes at his shoulders and chest, draping elegantly along the back of his chair, pooling over his arms as they rested on the desk. A few stray locks even curled across his desk, as if the whole of him had been dropped and every strand of hair was left to float and trail out from him to every corner of the room.

He smiled at me, eyes soft and narrow and disarmingly bright green. 

“Don’t worry.” he called, tapping one foot on the floor. I couldn’t see it behind his desk, but I could hear it, as he clicked his heel and it clearly bounced off something. 

I wasn’t eager to come closer, despite that. The entire room- or the space where there  _ should  _ have been a room -was empty. No floor, no walls, no ceiling. The Headmaster looked to hover in nothingness, his desk and chair there with him in suspension, solid and steady. 

After a moment, Father cleared his throat. I flinched. 

Forcing myself forward a step, then another, I came back to the threshold. Staring straight down at what looked like an immediate drop, I grasped the door frame before pressing one foot back out into the ‘room’. As it met where the floor should have been, solid force returned it. I pressed slightly, testing it. Trying to gauge if there was give or sway or some other hint this was a precarious bubble or sagging sheet. It was solid, though. Just as much as the marble hallway I was leaving behind. 

Nervously, slowly, I dared trust one foot to the unseen floor, then another. All the while my grip on the doorframe remained ironclad. Once both feet were planted, stable and sure, I unwound finger by finger. Edging inch by inch further into the room, Father moved past me the moment I was clear of the doorway. I shied from his figure as he grazed by, heading to one of two chairs before the Headmaster’s desk I felt positive hadn’t been there just a blink ago.

As if at all familiar with this, Father moved without hesitation to take a seat, regarding the Headmaster cooly. I took more time, shuffling awkward and finding the anxiety once wracking me now fast replaced with a mounting vertigo and nausea. By the time I found my seat I was weak, nearly collapsing into it only to continue staring between my feet- straight down to the lawn a pocket of students in uniform were now traveling across. 

“So. Celestin LaClair.” The Headmaster beckoned. My attention abruptly returned to the moment, snapping back to the man across from me. Up closer, the youth in his features seemed even clearer. He was soft-featured and pale-skinned, with pointed ears that were almost lost among the sheets of his hair draping this way and that. His robes were elegant, matching the castle in old fashion and impeccable detail. The cut was masculine, the color a delicate pastel shade of teal. It strayed just enough on the side of grey to feel subtle and soft, leaving all attention to easily pass over the color towards his face.

I straightened in my seat as he called on me, resisting the need to sniffle some to clear the last of the water and thickness from my eyes and throat. Not that either would much matter- the sunglasses kept my gaze pointedly concealed, and no amount of phlegm would impact anything about my voice. Pooling both hands into my lap, I looked to him with a clear focus.

“Your enrollment here was rather last minute, hm?” The Headmaster smiled, an expression that seemed genuine despite the thinness of his lips pulling it a bit taut. “I’m glad you made it in on time. We’re happy to have you.”

Father cleared his throat at that, shifting in his seat to draw attention to his wide frame. Even without moving closer, his mere presence eclipsed mine easily. From top to bottom, he was bigger than me in every way- taller than average and thick in the shoulders and waist. He wore a navy blue suit with a pale tie somewhere between white and a delicate periwinkle. At different angles, it seemed somewhere else on the scale, and just barely the glint of embroidery showed off the outline of star patterns in the fabric. He was a man who knew how to draw the eye- to the big picture, as well as the details. It was as much in his suit as it was his face, hard features accented expertly by the cut of his manicured beard. The pale blue of his hair almost matched his tie, and similarly to its subtle design it was all swept back with several small braids pulling from his temples to the back, where they wound together into an ornate braid running almost the length of the rest of his hair, just past his shoulders. 

“Yes, well.” Father started in, leaning forward somewhat and leveling a stern grey-eyed gaze on the Headmaster. “I want to be certain your staff are all equipped to take due care of him. Celestin has..  _ unique needs _ .”

I winced a little as he said the words I’d heard a hundred times before. No degree of repetition made them sting any less. Trying not to sink in my chair any, I drug my gaze reluctantly back to the Headmaster to gauge his reaction. To his credit, he didn’t balk or take insult. He simply smiled, calm and pleasant, and nodded his head.

“Of course. I received your missive this morning on the matter.” He replied.

At that, I did sink in my seat.

Father sent a missive? Over  _ me? Really? _

I hadn’t even arrived yet and my attendance here was off to a great start..

“I can assure you all my staff have been informed and have methods for communicating with your son. As well as aiding him in doing likewise with his peers. It shouldn’t pose any issue.” The Headmaster pointedly turned my way, smiling encouragingly at that. I lacked the strength to try and return it, instead curling in as if with enough will I could fold up on myself and disappear forever.

Father hummed, a noise I recognized as his resignation to having no holes to poke, but still wanting a reason to fuss and argue. Mother always remarked I got my stubbornness from him, even though that was impossible.

“And what of the other matter?” Father leveled sternly.

I felt that knot tighten again. It seemed to be wrapped around something vital, as it strained and I wanted to seize with the pain of it. It was wise, I decided then, to have skipped breakfast that morning. I had no faith anything I’d consumed would be staying put right now as nerves bucked my every innard mercilessly.

The Headmaster looked between Father and me slowly then, careful and gauging behind his steady smile. He gathered his hands at his desk, interlacing fingers and mirroring Father’s posture in leaning forward somewhat into the conversation.

“Mister LaClair.” He addressed Father smoothly, undaunted by his tone and the topic at hand. “I assure you we have a no-tolerance policy with our students in terms of behavior. If anyone makes a fuss of anything concerning your son in regards to  _ those matters _ , they will be handled swiftly. All of our attending artisans and those in training are aware of our rules when they enroll. In accepting our invitation to attend, they agree to those rules in every official capacity. Thus, any infractions on campus are a violation of that contract.”

Then, he turned to me, and while no part of his face changed I felt a degree of warmth drain from his smile. “Of course, this also relies on the offended parties in question to come forward, if a staff member wasn’t present for such events. We are guides and teachers here, after all. Not nannies.”

I stared back at him blankly, well into the birthing of an awkward silence. 

By the time I realized he expected reaction from me, he was already abandoning the moment to return focus to Father.

“Is this satisfactory?” He asked.

Father’s mouth pulled into a taut line, but he said nothing. Mulling it over, perhaps?

After a beat, he looked to me, an evident disapproval in his eyes. 

“Well?” He asked me. I felt the weight of the words before he even said them.

“You’re the one who enrolled. It’s your decision.”

This was it. 

The final chance to back down.

I knew what he wanted me to do. What he’d been begging and hoping for all day, in our last hours together before this moment. The pleading glances and soft words hadn’t worked. But the small taste of his absence in the hall.. 

I swallowed thick. Glanced from Father to the Headmaster.

Both watched me with expectation, though one was far brighter than the other. The Headmaster’s gaze was unblinking and eager seeming, while Father wore his stern, rigid work-face in the moment. Both of them hung in the quiet, and in it I could hear my pulse rising louder at the back of my ears.

It was to be expected, that I looked to Father as I responded. 

Hands worrying a button on my coat, I nodded. Slight, at first. Then quicker, harder.

“Excellent!” The Headmaster clapped his hands together softly, as Father turned away from me with a downturned twitch to his lips. That cold, hollow sensation began returning from my gut outwards. I could practically hear the creaking rope as the knot inside me strained ever tighter.

“Then with that, Celestin, let me formally welcome you to Halcyon Academy.”

The Headmaster stood, reaching out one hand towards me. I couldn’t feel my legs. I couldn’t connect to a drop of strength in any of my limbs. My body moved on its own to stand and take his hand. As we shook, I barely felt it. All I found myself aware of was the growing, consuming pit inside my body to which all else was slipping down into. Even the nerves strung up tight fell somewhere I couldn’t quite reach, leaving me strangely numb as Father stood before I could return to my seat.

“I suppose there’s nothing left to do but see you off, then.” Father said. He did a good job of hiding if he was upset or not, tone simply formal as he looked to me then turned to bow slightly to the Headmaster. As they exchanged parting words and handshakes, I stood still. A part of the moment, yet apart from it. 

Father moved to the door, which I only then noticed was attached to the wall, to the castle, all fully visible as we hovered just outside it. When he pulled it open and strode back to the hall, I sluggishly understood I needed to follow. Two steps into following in his wake, the Headmaster spoke up behind me. 

“Actually, Celestin, if you’ve a moment and your father wouldn’t mind waiting, I’d like to review some first year materials with you.” I glanced between them. Father, I knew, did not like to be made beholden to anyone else’s schedule. The proper thing was to decline, to prioritize seeing him off. But my feet didn’t move. My head nodded before I realized what I was doing.

Father made a noise I couldn’t quite decipher from the doorway, before shutting it behind himself. Leaving me alone in the floating space with the Headmaster. Slowly turning back to the man, I failed to sit back down or move at all. I just stared, forgetting how to function altogether without Father there at my side.

The Headmaster watched me, his smile regaining the warmth I’d felt it lose earlier. He motioned softly towards the chair I’d been in, but when I still didn’t move, he made no further issue of it.

“Would you be terribly upset if I asked you to remove your glasses, Celestin?”

All at once, tension wracked me head to toe, snapping me from slackly disconnected to suddenly aware of every muscle in my body. My hands balled up at my sides. My jaw went taut.

Of all things, The Headmaster laughed. He waved one hand flippantly.

“I guess that answers that. Nevermind, then, if you-”

Before he could finish, I reached up and pulled them away. 

Without them, the light of the room was all the more jarring, though the morning sun had begun to dip and weaken. I didn’t have to squint, which made it all the easier for the Headmaster to look directly into my eyes. 

I felt my entire face stiffen as he regarded me for a moment. Just as something static crawled anxiously under my skin, he canted his head to the side and hummed.

“How interesting.” He remarked. “I suppose you must be aware, most of what I said earlier was simply to ease your father’s nerves.”

I nodded, raising the glasses in gesture. The Headmaster motioned permission, and I slipped them back on before finally returning to my chair with weak knees.

“While we do have little to no tolerance for harassment between students, the reality is that policing such a thing is nearly impossible. People don’t realistically work that way. Normally, it isn’t much of an issue here. We tend to get good kids in, and even those with behavior issues are more likely to take it out in training than on each other. That said..” He looked at me, and even with the glasses back on I could feel him locking eyes with me, knowing what was behind them. “A child with white hair is bound to draw attention. But one with red eyes as well?”

He shook his head some, sighing. “It is unfortunate. But I think we both know people will have plenty to say on the matter of your appearance. I can’t stop people from being who they are, and believing what they will. Knowing this, are you still sure you wish to attend?”

I felt my hands ball up in my lap. My teeth grit. Firmly, I nodded.

Other people were never a concern, when I made my decision to come here. They sure as hell weren’t going to be a deciding factor, now. This wasn’t about them, after all. I could survive them, if I had to. 

“Good. Bravery will serve you well, here.” The Headmaster’s smile widened, as he returned my nod softly. “Now, on the topic of your enrollment letter..” He moved a hand across his desk, scattered papers shuffling on their own to stack neatly atop one another. As they did, one sheet separated itself from the pile, fluttering neatly to the side of the stack as it settled. I could recognize my handwriting instantly, even upside down. As the Headmaster scanned it back over, I felt uneasy. It made sense he’d read them all personally, but a part of me had just assumed some secretary beneath him handled all the applications and approvals.

“You mention you’ve been demonstrating abilities for several years, now.” He glanced up from the paper briefly, long enough to catch my affirming nod then return. “But they’d been growing more volatile as of late. You want to learn control, in order to keep your family safe.”

Again, a pause. A glance. A nod.

Humming, he set the letter down and looked to me with more focus. His smile slowly faded. The knot in me tightened on cue. 

“Do you have any aspirations past that point? There are plenty of minor schools and even home tutors that could teach you control. You didn’t have to come here, to an artisan’s academy, to learn self-discipline.”

Slowly, as he finished speaking, I dropped my gaze. I bit my lip. One hand worried a nail on the other idly. When he went quiet, I shrugged. Staring at the floor didn’t help- looking straight down the sheer drop turned my stomach all the more. I shook my head a little. 

“What would you prefer?” He asked. I looked back up as he motioned, and blank pages slipped free of the stack of papers. With one hand, he gestured to an inkwell and quill set aside on his desk, with the other he pulled free a phone from his desk drawer. I hesitated, wrapping my mind around the dual surreality of seeing him with a phone, then realizing how his being made a phone at all seem out of place.

Blinking a bit to clear the hiccup, I shook my head some and reached into my pocket. Pulling my own phone out, it took barely a second to have an app open and message typed out into it. Finishing it and hitting a button, a smooth though clearly robotic voice spoke aloud, “I want to attend here. It’s important”.

“Important?” He questioned, regarding me curious though confused. “How so?”

I had an answer typed before he even finished asking. “Just is”, my phone replied.

I expected it to turn sour there, but he just chirped a laugh and nodded.

Leaning back in his chair, the Headmaster shrugged. “Fair enough. Then will you be with us for a full four year term?”

It was my turn to shrug, at that. I hadn’t really considered it. Just the first year was hurdle enough. The Headmaster seemed to understand that, or at least not be worried about any longer commitment, as the shrug was enough to have him move on.

“Alright, then. I eagerly await to see what class your powers find you with, tonight.”

As he stood, I did the same. My legs felt steadier beneath me, even as I watched more students trail the grounds far below. He didn’t reach to shake my hand this time, instead bowing deeply as I rose. I hurried to do the same, and he laughed partway into his goodbye.

“Resist the light.” He called behind me as I left, stepping with no small degree of relief from the boundless office back into the hall. The marble felt secure and welcoming as I claimed it back underfoot, and as the door shut behind me the reality of the hallway was a surprising comfort. 

Looking left, then right, I fast noticed Father was nowhere in sight.

It did not occur to me as a first taste of freedom, however.

Rather, my heart found new home solidly in my throat.

As it pounded a rapid pulse, suffocating me swiftly, I found myself racing down the stairwell.

Desperately, I clung to the hope his car, and thus Father himself, were simply waiting for me outside.


	4. Aching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chance to pull back on his decision. Celestin faces one of the hardest things he's ever had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some heavy emotional content regarding a very unhealthy relationship. Nothing physically graphic.

I ran. Flinching at every touch from those I passed by.

I rushed down the stairs, through the main hall. Out the massive, groaning double doors and through the array-lined courtyard. Down the pathway with fewer cars lining it than before. 

Near its end, the sleek black frame of father’s car still waited. I rushed to it, even as its engine turned over and hummed to life. He sat stoic in the front seat, even as I threw myself haphazardly against the door, more concerned with reaching him them stopping in time. He flinched at the clatter of the collision, but kept his gaze forced forward. 

It was unbecoming, but I rapped one panicked fist on the window. Terrified, of what I’d do if he simply drove away like this. A heartbeat passed where he still didn’t move, and that terrible chasm in my gut deeped to something unknowably cold. My whole body shook around it, as if threatened with falling into it and becoming nothing. 

My Father was not an impervious man. Not to reason, not to his own emotions. He caved, as I continued to pound wordlessly on his window. His head turned, staring at me through the tint. I begged in every way I knew how, pressing hands to the glass and leaning desperately against it. Hoping against all hurt pride in play that he would relent. 

Another strained moment passed. The lock of the car door clicked. I hurried out of the way as he pushed it open, revealing to me his watery eyes and exhausted face. I moved immediately into the open door, shielding him from any potential view. The crowds had thinned, the onlookers once scattered around now either inside the main halls or driving home. All the same, I wanted no one to see this. Him. My Father- the imposing, amiable, strong man that he was just a breath away from sobbing in his car. The hole in me started to fill. A thick and drowning guilt bubbled up from its depths, driving a chill through my veins and a shame into my core that forced my head down. Tucking chin, I moved on instinct, throwing myself into the car partway. My arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as best able, clinging as I buried myself into his shoulder.

Even as his thick arms wound around me tight, he fought for some final string of hope.

“You don’t have to do this.” He whispered against me, one hand lurching up to smooth my hair. My lungs hitched, a tight and hurt breath as my eyes swelled. Father did his best to stay composed, but I could hear the tears in his tone as he continued hushed and desperate. “We can just go home. I won’t be mad, I promise. We can just go home..”

I shook my head against him, a hiccup rasping raw in my throat. Wet gravel sounds ground out in me, strange and choked and wrong-sounding. He held me tighter, pinning me to him and burying his face into me. His beard scratched fierce at my neck. For once, I didn’t mind it.

“Please..” He whispered, choked. “Please, just..”

I shook my head, despite myself. Despite his pleas. He clung to me so tightly I believed he was just a moment away from dragging me into the car fully and driving off by force. But he never did. He just held on, scared and needy and hurt. And I let him, submerging into that pool of guilt deep in my gut. This pain was my fault. All and only, my fault. I was the one doing this to him. To us. I could have stopped it. Spared him. But I wasn’t. I didn’t. 

So there we remained, clinging and crying, knowing the inevitable but cowering from it all the same. Father broke down as we stayed entwined, sobbing into me. Tears fell in fat rolls down his round cheeks, soaking into his dry beard. His whole body shook with every sob and gasp, and I was reminded of the night Mother left for her first month-long trip overseas. The way he had cried, then. Lonely and desperate and hurt. I realized, as he bawled into me, and I clung white-knuckled around his shoulders, that I was doing exactly what Mother had. I wondered, selfishly, if she’d had her reasons then like I did now. If they were at all similar. Probably not. But the fleeting thought was the closest thing to kinship I’d ever shared with her. So I tasted it, strange as it was, before letting it go and nuzzling into Father’s neck. If it made things better or worse, I couldn’t tell. He simply continued to cry, and I let him, until there were no more tears to be had. 

After the strength for sobbing wore out, we went still and quiet. Neither of us budged to disengage. Father eventually sniffled and swallowed and coughed, trying to gather himself enough to be understandable when he muttered a nasal, “I love you”. 

Something in my chest fractured. I curled around him, into him, weakly. Struck low by the words. Rapidly, I nodded into him. I loved him, too. I did. He probably didn’t fully believe it- not now, not anymore. But I did. I loved him more than anyone or anything in the world. He sniffled and sighed, and the noise turned to a pained whimper. I shoved my face against him as if I could bury deep enough to no longer hear it. He pet my head a few final times, before his hands slipped and slid. Down from my head, my back. Down towards my hips where just barely, with all the strength I imagine he had left, he shoved softly. I hated it. Hated that I needed it. 

He pushed and I unwound my arms from his shoulders. I sniffled and drew back, every inch a painful scrape. Pieces of myself tore off and stayed stuck to him. I could feel them, tearing loose from me and turning lost. I left them with him. It was the least I could leave him with. As we at last parted, I snuffled and coughed and rubbed my raw face with one coat sleeve. It felt somehow too big in the moment. I felt as small as the day we’d met.

His massive hand cupped my cheek as he leaned forward. His lips found my forehead, and where he kissed I could feel myself turn cold and hollow again. He was chaste, brief, pulling away and letting go after barely a moment. I shuddered in his wake, sniffling and rubbing my face still. 

“If  _ anything  _ happens,  _ anything at all _ ,” he stressed with a heartbroken finality. “You call me. Understood?”

I nodded, weak and empty. I couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore.

“And you’ll come home, for the holidays, won’t you?”

I nodded again.

“And.. And you’ll text? Every night?”

Again. My head bobbed, my eyes swam.

More tears bubbled up from a well I’d thought run dry.

Silence passed between us as Father fought to retain his weak composure. I failed miserably where he succeeded, starting to weep all over again. 

“I love you, Celestin. With all my heart.”

A sandpaper croak left my throat without permission, crackling horribly into the air between us. I could hear Father’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, creaking the leather there as he fought to stay still and not wrap me back up in his arms. We’d both done so good for so much of the day. But here, at the last moments, it was real. This was no longer a suggestion or dare or game to be won out. For the first time since he’d taken me in, Father was now leaving my side. Neither of us really knew how to handle it.

I rose both hands, desperately mashing the heels of my palms into my eyes and rubbing, trying to stop the tears that kept coming forth. Father leaned, plucking the glasses pushed up to my brow. As he removed them from my way, my body buckled with the force of a hoarse sob. 

“You are going to do great things, here.” He spoke with a calm that was only just so. Smooth waters with a churning far beneath. I struggled to emulate even a fraction of that. Some shard of his strength. 

“You are a LaClair.” He said firmly. My composure cracked and I hiccuped, nearly falling back to bawling just as I’d managed to pull hands from my face. Wiping the last of the wetness from my cheeks, I straightened my back and looked to him. My features were swollen, my face hot. I couldn’t keep my mouth from furling into a trembling frown. But I stood, watching as he moved to slide the glasses back onto my face. 

“I’m proud of you, son. Be safe.”

I understood the weight of his words. As we looked to each other, I knew if I fell into his arms again, he’d take me. He’d hold me for however long I wanted to stay. And if I climbed into the back seat, that was it. We would go home. We would never speak of this again. Everything would go back to normal.

Wiping my face on one sleeve, I staggered back. Away enough for him to close his door. To turn away. To pull, ever so slowly, forward then around. Down the pathway and down the hill, back to the uneven winding roads set to take him home. Without me.

As the car crawled slowly away, I stood at the edge of the Halcyon Campus and watched it go.

For the first time in seven years, I was entirely alone.


End file.
